


figures dancing gracefully

by jehancourf



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: First Meetings, M/M, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 16:30:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4926865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jehancourf/pseuds/jehancourf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Beloved.” Jehan says quietly, and they can feel all eyes on them. “I think it’s time for a story, don’t you?”</p><p>(In which Courfeyrac recalls the story of how he met his partner.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	figures dancing gracefully

**Author's Note:**

> for anon, who asked for "jehan/courf first meeting maybe?"
> 
> come hang out with me at jehancourf on tumblr!

Jehan is cuddled up on Courfeyrac’s lap, wrapped up tight in his arms, pressing sleepy kisses to wherever they can reach. His shoulders, his chest, his collar, and, when he inevitably cups their cheek in his gentle hand, they kiss at that, too.

It is just about midnight, and the two of them, plus the entirety of their group of friends, have had the student lounge taken over since a quarter past eight. They had originally intended to hold the room for two hours, tops, just to finish the evening’s homework together before retiring to their own rooms, respectively. However, as is the natural course of events, the sound of typing fingers and scribbling pens turns to the sound of giggles and chatter, and homework is eventually forgotten altogether.

Jehan’s kisses are technically uninvited, at least by the rest of them, since there’s been a ban for the last few months on romantic displays of affection. Enjolras says it’s because Feuilly is romance repulsed, which isn’t exactly a lie, but everyone knows its because of Courf and Jehan. They’re inseparable nowadays, whether it’s cuddling or kissing or just holding hands, they’re rarely ever apart, and it’s taking it’s toll on nearly everyone else. Jehan is hardly bothered by the ban, and is still as affectionate and amorous as always, but they know that Courfeyrac shows a little more mercy.

“Princess.” He murmurs, running a thumb over Jehan’s bottom lip. “You’ve gotta cut it out.”

And he’s right, of course he is, but God, he’s looking right at them with those big brown eyes and Jehan can hardly stand it. He’s smiling so sweetly just for them, and he is so, so handsome. It’s really not their fault when they kiss him, softly, and certainly not their fault when he kisses back.

Jehan is just out of range when Enjolras’ long-discarded shoe flies in their direction, but it hits Courfeyrac square in the back of the head.

“Oi!” He exclaims, pulling back to nurse it. Jehan immediately pulls back to worry over him, trying not to look amused. Enjolras shrugs.

“No PDA.” He says simply. He is pressed close to Grantaire, who is not even trying not to look ecstatic at this development. Courfeyrac looks about ready to call him out on his hypocrisy, but Jehan places a tiny kiss near where the shoe hit him. To bring his attention back to them, and to distract him. They work together like that.

He smiles at them, a stupid lopsided grin, and pulls them in to kiss once more. A few people groan, and Jehan can hear Enjolras mutter about finding his other shoe, but they don’t mind, not too much. They know it doesn’t bother Feuilly as much as Enjolras claims, and besides, they’re in love.

“How did you two meet anyway?” Comes Eponine’s agitated voice from Grantaire’s other side, causing a second groan to fill the room. Jehan feels Courfeyrac’s grin before they see it, and when he pulls away from them to address the situation, his face is lit up like the sun.

Of course she doesn’t know, she isn’t even a student, but Courfeyrac has told everyone, at every possible chance, and he had probably thought that he’d finally run out of people to tell. Must be a pleasant surprise for him, because he’s looking at Jehan like he’s asking permission, puppy dog eyes and everything. They can’t help the laughter that escapes them.

“Beloved.” Jehan says quietly, and they can feel all eyes on them. “I think it’s time for a story, don’t you?”

(The only other person to look even remotely interested is Marius, who whispers excitedly to Cosette and mutes the television.)

Courfeyrac sits forward, dramatic as always, and Jehan follows, leaning their head against his shoulder. Admittedly, they have heard him tell their story a dozen times, but they are always willing to hear it again. They like to hear his thoughts upon meeting them again and again, and besides, he’s a fantastic story teller.

“It was a dark and rainy night,” Courfeyrac begins, as he always does. He is not lying, but Jehan catches a few pairs of eyes roll. “The sort of night where the roads are all flooded and stores close early and cows are flying around and stuff. Weather you really don’t want to go out in, you know? So, naturally, I’m out. Coming home late from work. It’s like ten or eleven at night--”

“Eleven.”

“Eleven. On a fucking Wednesday. There’s hardly anyone on the trains, but they aren’t running right. So like, halfway to my stop dude kicks me off and tells me to catch a bus. He wasn’t even apologetic either. Poor guy just wanted to get home to his family, probably.

“Anyway, I’m stuck in the middle of the city, in the dark, in the rain, and I take out my phone to text Ferre to come pick me up, and the fucker’s dead. Not even a warning either. Little asshole computer is just wasted. So now I’m starting to panic, completely lost- in both the literal and metaphorical sense- and I just start walking.”

Courfeyrac, having said all this in one go, takes a second to breathe, much to the dismay of his audience. He is, after all, a good story teller, using his hands and tone of voice and facial expressions to describe things that his words can’t. Even though some of them have heard this story half a dozen times, everyone is as invested as though it were their first. Jehan wonders if he could get a crowd excited about hearing the recipe for strawberry milk.

“I’m not really expecting to see anybody out at this time of night, not in this weather, so imagine my surprise when I see after like, a half a mile of walking, Jehan, in the middle of the goddamn street.

“They’re not wearing much of anything, of course, ‘cept a leotard. The blue one, you know? With the green paisley tights and ballet slippers, doing some crazy dance moves on the median. And naturally, I’m staring. Partially because what the hell? But mostly because they’re really hot and really wet.”

Jehan laughs and kisses him on the cheek, but he’s too excited about the memory to really pay any mind.

“Takes them a second to notice me, but when they do, they curtsy at me, and I kinda snap out of it, you know? They had me in a trance. I’d never seen anyone like them in my whole life.”

Courfeyrac’s voice is soft, and Jehan is positive that their face is pink, and everyone is on the edge of their seat.

“So I yell at them from the sidewalk. ‘You’re gonna get yourself killed!’ Or something.”

“He called me a mental case.” Jehan interjects, fondly.

“Yeah. ‘You’re gonna get yourself killed, you mental case!’ I said. And you know what? They laugh at me. Like it’s the funniest thing in the world. And they open their arms, right there in the middle of the street, and they tell me, they tell me–”

“Dance with me.” They say together, grinning at eachother.

“And I did.” Courfeyrac continues. “I was a little scared, at first, of course. Because this is still a total stranger in the middle of the night and all. But Jehan was very persuasive.”

“I smiled at you.” Says Jehan, giggling.

“Yeah, exactly.” He agrees. “You have a beautiful smile.” Jehan kisses his cheek, and Courfeyrac smiles back at them.

“We danced in the middle of the street for an hour before they even introduced themself.” He continues, holding eye contact with Jehan. “But I knew I never wanted to be away from them again.”

Jehan leans in, close enough to kiss. “Good thing, too.” They say quietly. “Because I fell in love instantly.”

Enjolras clears his throat, causing Courfeyrac to turn his attention back to the others. He continues to talk, but Jehan is no longer listening. It’s close to the end of the hour now, and the day has been long. They lay back just so Courf has an arm around them. They are so warm, and so sleepy.

They let out a tiny little yawn, trying to keep their eyes open. Courfeyrac laughs, and they swear they can feel it.

“Looks like somebody’s getting tired.” He says, mostly to Jehan. “Mind if we head out, guys?”

“That’s it?” Eponine asks, pretending not to care. “What about the end?”

Courfeyrac shrugs, and Jehan just knows he’s smiling when he says: “There isn’t one.”


End file.
